The Show Must Go On
by A-very-supernatural-fan
Summary: What went on inside the minds of the Winchester brothers in those three weeks after Bobby's death? Tag to 7x10 and 7x11.


**What went on inside the heads of the Winchester brothers in those three weeks after Bobby's death? Tag to 7x10 and 7x11. **

**_ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _**

**WEEK ONE **

_Sam_

He had tried to remember what had happened after the news about Bobby's death, how he had left the hospital, how and when he'd ended up in a bed in Rufus' old cottage in Montana and if Lucifer had shown anywhere in between. He really _had_ tried to remember but Sam Winchester could not really recall any of it. The last thing Sam did remember was Bobby flat-lining in front of their eyes, followed by some doctor announcing the time of death, and the next thing Sam became aware of again was the fact that he was lying on a bed in the cottage.

Sam got into a sitting position and rubbed at his eyes before carding a hand through his long hair, moving it backwards. Sam licked his tongue across his dry lips and then turned his head as the sounds of the TV reached his ears. From his position on the bed he spotted the top of Dean's head above the backrest of the couch and Sam let out a little sigh. Now that he knew the fact that Dean was here with him, Sam felt more relieved.

He pushed himself off the bed and walked the short distance to the TV-area. Sam noticed some empty beer cans on the table but he couldn't remember if they had also been on the table when they had left this place or if they were new ones. Dean didn't turn his head to look at Sam. In fact, he just kept staring into the TV screen as if he hadn't heard Sam approaching at all. Sam didn't need to look Dean in the eyes to tell the fact that what he remembered about Bobby being dead was true – it was written all over his big brother's face. Sam swallowed hard and fought down the nausea that rose by the thought of their deceased surrogate father before he plopped down on a chair next to the couch.

Sam had so many questions he wanted to ask his brother. _What happened? How did we get here? Is Bobby really gone for good? What are we gonna do now, Dean? _But the words seemed to get caught in his throat before they could come out and Sam started staring at the TV screen as well. That Spanish soap opera show was on again – the one that Bobby and Dean in particular had come to be rather addicted to during their exile in the cottage. Sam didn't really pay attention to the show. He just stared blankly at the screen while pressing his thumb into the slowly-fading scar on his hand. Sam couldn't understand how they'd yet again lost someone dear to them, someone they loved. He had to fight the tears that kept pushing forward while he remained in complete silence like Dean. Speaking of his big brother.. Sam slowly turned his head and looked at Dean with watery eyes. The oldest Winchester brother kept staring at the TV screen with a defeated posture and Sam turned his eyes back to the screen while his chest tightened.

They stayed like this for hours. The silence between them was suffocating and Sam hated every second of it. He wanted so badly to talk to Dean about this, to share the grief that was eating him up from inside out, but Sam was afraid his brother would react the way he'd done when their father had died. He'd pushed Sam away because Sam had wanted to get all _touchy feely _about it and Sam didn't want that to happen again.

"I'm going to bed." Sam had said in the end which had been the first words spoken that day.

"Okay." Dean had said without tearing his eyes away from the TV screen.

Sam sighed and left the chair, winced a bit because of his stiff muscles and then went back to the bed he'd left earlier. Sam buried his face into the pillow and started crying softly into the fabric while hoping Dean wouldn't hear him.

_Dean_

Bobby was dead. D-E-A-D, gone, had left this world for good. And it had all happened so sudden. Yes, Bobby had been shot in the head and the odds hadn't been to his favor but Bobby had woken up, written on Sam's hand and he'd spoken! The word Dean would forever connect with his surrogate father; _Idjits._

And then Bobby Singer had died. Dean hadn't handled the news very well but he'd buried the grief and anger inside of him, had left the hospital staff a card with his number and had then dragged Sammy with him to the car (that wasn't the Impala). His little brother had been in a state of shock. Sam's eyes had been blown wide and he'd stared emptily straight ahead of him on the entire drive to Montana. This hadn't changed when they'd reached the cottage and Dean had manhandled his brother inside before he had gotten him to bed.

Dean would have been worried about his brother if it hadn't been for the fact that he could barely keep himself together. He felt like he was floating around beside his own body and he couldn't really think straight. Dean had dumped down on the couch and had flicked on the TV to distract him from his own trail of thoughts.

Dean had no idea how much time had passed when Sam joined him again. He just knew two things; Dean hadn't left the couch at all, and the darkness of the night had turned to daylight. Dean didn't say anything as Sam sat down on a chair next to him and neither did Sam. He didn't know whether or not to be concerned about the fact that Sam didn't even try to start a conversation, but somehow Dean really couldn't bring himself to care. He felt Sam glance at him and moved his eyes towards his little brother only a moment later. Sam had turned his attention back to the TV but Dean could see the emotion on his face and the way that Sam struggled against tears. Dean didn't say anything.

He turned his eyes back at the TV screen while wondering why _he_ didn't have the urge to cry too. Bobby had meant the world to both brothers so why was Sam the only one struggling against tears? Deep down Dean knew. He knew that he couldn't cry about it yet because he simply couldn't accept the fact that Bobby was gone. Bobby always fought his way through the bad times, he was _always _gonna be okay so Bobby couldn't really be gone. Dean stubbornly clenched his jaw and kept staring at the TV. He just felt defeated.

The day had apparently come and gone without Dean had noticed it. He was startled when Sam suddenly spoke up for the first time that day as he announced he would go to bed.

"Okay." Dean had automatically said while his eyes remained on the TV screen.

He felt Sam glance at him again before the younger brother had sighed and walked away. Dean heard the muffled sounds when Sam started crying and a tear rolled down the older brother's cheek.

**_ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ **

**WEEK TWO **

_Sam_

They had barely eaten anything at all the first week after Bobby's death, barely spoken to each other, barely even looked each other in the eyes. Bobby's death had been like a bombshell neither of them had been capable of dealing with.

Sam had spent a great amount of time in bed. He'd been too depressed to get up in the mornings and the grief had threatened to consume him along with the constant nagging of Lucifer. Sam usually had Dean to keep him grounded but the older brother hadn't been much of a help the first week. In fact, Sam had wondered if Dean had been glued to the damn couch and Sam had been inches away from picking up the TV and throwing it out of the window in sheer frustration. During the first week, the empty beer cans on the coffee table had increased considerably, but by the end of it Dean had finally moved from the couch and Sam had finally been able to get out of bed.

Sam had just finished doing the dishes when he'd come across Bobby's address book. He realized that none of these people knew the fact that the old hunter was no longer among them and somehow that didn't seem right to him. Bobby's death shouldn't just be swept under the rug like had it been nothing because it was a big frigging deal. Sam put the book away though as Dean approached him.

"These numbers, Sam." Dean said and waved a pad of paper in front of Sam's face. "They gotta mean something, right?"

"Sure Dean." Sam said, relieved about the fact that Dean had finally started talking to him again. "You got any ideas?"

"Yeah." Dean said as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Maybe we should call Frank too, have him help us."

"You mean crazy-Frank?" Sam asked with a frown.

"Okay, so the man is a little nuts but he knows his way around the system." Dean said. "He can help."

"If you say so." Sam sighed. "Look, I'm gonna go on a supply run. You need anything?"

"Beers." Dean said and then took a big sip of his glass of whiskey. "And whiskey."

Sam let his eyes wander across the pile of empty beer cans on the table and nervously cleared his throat.

"Dean, do you really think it's a.." Sam started when Dean cut him off.

"Sam.." Dean said in a warning tone and Sam sighed.

"Fine. I'll be back soon." Sam then said before he grabbed his coat and headed out.

The fresh air felt amazing after spending a whole week inside, but it also made Sam aware of the fact that he could really need a shower. Food and personal hygiene hadn't been among the things that had been on the younger Winchester brother's mind these past days but Sam decided it was time to start thinking about those things - again _after _he'd brought home some groceries at least.

When Sam reached the local store, he quickly picked out some food and went to the register to pay. The cashier shot Sam a strange look and raised his eyebrows but beeped the groceries in nonetheless.

"You okay man?" The cashier asked as Sam handed over some money.

"Yeah." Sam said with a frown.

Honestly, Sam felt far from okay but he was kinda startled a little by the fact that a total stranger could tell.

"_I'm so gonna take a shower when I get back!_" Sam thought and tried to smile politely.

The cashier shrugged his shoulders and Sam picked up the bag of groceries before leaving the store and driving back to the cottage.

"_Bobby Singer is dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!_" Lucifer mocked beside him.

"Shut up!" Sam muttered through clenched teeth as he arrived outside the cottage. "You're not real."

"Maybe, maybe not." Lucifer said with a smirk. "Either way though, Bobby is gone."

And Sam knew Lucifer was right. Bobby was truly gone and would never return to them again. The thought of it made him sick and Sam barely managed to rip the door open and fall down on his hands and knees before he started throwing up.

"Everyone around you dies." Lucifer said. "Your mum, your dad, Jessica, Ellen, Jo, Castiel, Bobby. And that's just some of them. You know who's gonna be next, don't you? Saint Dean will be the next one to die and then you'll be all alone in the world, Sam."

"I'm not listening to you." Sam said before he shakily got back on his feet and took the groceries with him into the cottage.

"What do you think? Zip code? Some sort of lock maybe?" Dean asked with a glass of whiskey in his hand as Sam placed the bag of groceries on the table.

"I'm gonna take a shower." Sam just said as he headed towards the bathroom.

"V-mail perhaps?" He heard Dean say before Sam closed the bathroom door behind him.

He leant back against the door and closed his eyes. Somehow he had to make his brother talk to him about this 'cause Sam couldn't take this anymore. Yes, Dean was more or less out of the couch now and they were both talking - but they weren't talking to _each other. _Not really. Sam felt his stomach roll once more so he got on his knees in front of the toilet bowl and threw up what little he'd got left in his stomach. Sam then spent the last of his energy on getting back on his feet, turn on the shower and strip out of his clothes before getting under the hot drops. He supported his hands against the tiles on the wall and let his forehead touch the wet and cold tiles.

_Saint Dean will be the next one in line and then you'll be all alone in the world, Sam. _

Sam let out a small sob and then slid to the floor as sorrow once again bubbled up. He dragged his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them as tears started rolling down his cheeks.

_Dean_

The first week had been tough - the second week a little better. Dean had let anger and determination replace sorrow and depression, and he'd decided to find out what those damn numbers meant so he could hopefully get rid of Dick frigging Roman once and for all.

The first thing Dean had done was to write down the numbers, he'd memorized, on a pad of paper and had then begun the task of figuring out what they meant. Dean knew he couldn't do this on his own though. He needed his geeky sidekick to help him out – oh, and maybe Frank too! And alcohol.

Sam wasn't very keen on the whole alcohol idea. Dean could hear it in his little brother's voice but right now he didn't care.

"Dean, do you really think it's a.." Sam had started when Dean had mentioned beers and whiskey.

"Sam.." Dean had said in what he'd hoped was a tone Sam would understand.

His plan had worked and Sam had left soon after to get the supplies. Dean's stomach rumbled and he realized that maybe bringing home food wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. Truth to be told, he could really need a shower as well.

"Yeah, definitely." Dean mumbled with a wrinkle of his nose after quickly smelling his armpit.

Pad of paper left behind, Dean took a much needed shower and got into some clean clothes before rummaging the kitchen cabinets for anything worth eating. He came up with nothing that wasn't dangerously close to crawl away on its own but then his eyes caught sight of half a bottle of whiskey.

"Awesome." Dean said, took the bottle with him to the coffee table and put it down next to the other bottle before his eyes scanned the numbers on the pad of paper again.

A rumble of a car outside told Dean that his brother had returned. He was too far lost in his thoughts though to register the fact that it took a little while for Sam to get from the car to the cottage. When Sam did appear Dean had written down two possible options for the numbers and had immediately shared them with Sam, but the younger Winchester brother didn't comment on it. Instead, he announced he would take a shower and he then disappeared into the bathroom.

"V-mail perhaps?" Dean suggested and wrote down the third option.

Another rumble from his stomach had Dean returning to the kitchen to look through the groceries Sam had returned with. He made himself a couple of peanut butter-jelly sandwiches and washed them down with the rest of his glass of whiskey.

"Password." Dean said and brushed some crumbs off his pants before writing the forth option down on the paper.

He also managed to write _Bank _before a strange feeling crept in on him. A feeling he'd done his best to ignore the past week because he simply couldn't deal with anything else than the hopelessness he'd felt after the death of Bobby. _His big brother instincts_. Dean turned his head towards the bathroom door with a frown. How much time had Sam spent in there now? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? Forty-five minutes? Dean wasn't sure but as much as he knew Sam loved long hot showers his brother had been in the bathroom way too long for Dean's liking. Dean let the numbers be numbers for now and headed to the bathroom.

"Sam?" Dean called and knocked on the door. "You doing alright in there?"

Dean pressed his ear against the door but heard nothing but the run of water.

"Sam?" Dean asked and knocked on the door once more. "Answer me, dammit!"

When Sam still didn't answer, Dean grabbed the door handle and turned it down. Luckily, he found the door unlocked so he stepped inside the room.

"Jesus, Sam!" Dean exclaimed.

Sam was huddled up in the bottom of the shower with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them. Dean couldn't see his brother's face but he could tell from the shake of Sam's shoulders that the younger Winchester brother was either cold or crying. Maybe both, actually. Dean quickly turned off the shower and gasped a little from the cold water before he grabbed a pile of towels and started wrapping them around Sam's shivering body. Now that the water had been turned off and Dean had crouched down in front of his brother, Dean could clearly hear the sobs coming from Sam.

"What the hell were you thinking Sammy, huh?" Dean asked with a mix of anger and worry before he gently grabbed Sam's chin to lift his brother's head so he could try to catch Sam's eyes.

Sam's eyes were red and puffy and as soon as they locked on Dean's eyes, Dean had suddenly got his little brother's arms wrapped around his neck.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed and clung to the older Winchester brother as if his life depended on it.

"Hey hey, easy now." Dean said before he pried Sam's arms off his neck and held onto his brother's shoulders instead. "Sammy, what's going on?"

"Bobby's gone." Sam sniffled.

"Yeah, thank you for that piece of info, Captain Obvious.. " Dean sighed.

"No, you don't understand, Dean." Sam said and looked at his big brother with the same haunted look in his eyes that he'd had when he'd been five years old and had just woken up after a nightmare. "Bobby's gone and you'll be next. And I'm gonna be all alone."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked with a frown. "That is nonsense!"

"It's the truth." Sam said and sniffled miserably. "Something will happen to you as well and then I've got nobody."

"You listen to me very carefully now." Dean said and held Sam's look. "_I am not going anywhere. _You hear me? Nowhere! So cut the bullshit, Sammy."

"You promise?" Sam asked and Dean rolled his eyes a bit.

"I promise." Dean said and hauled Sam to his feet. "Now go put on some clothes and we'll get some food into you. Smells like you already got rid of whatever was left in your stomach anyway."

Sam nodded and wrapped the towels closer around his body before he walked out of the bathroom. Dean washed a hand down his face and suddenly felt very tired. He flushed the toilet and then went to the kitchen to make a sandwich for his brother that he placed on the table with a bottle of water.

"You better eat it all, bitch." Dean said and nodded towards the sandwich when Sam showed up fully clothed. "And small bites."

Sam nodded obediently and sat down by the table before he slowly began to consume the food. Dean went back to his pad of paper and started looking through the options he'd written down earlier. It all seemed hopeless. Dean angrily started crossing out all the options and took a drop of the glass of whiskey.

**_ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _**

**WEEK THREE**

_Sam_

So, the second week hadn't been the greatest one after all, but the more days that passed by, the easier it got to get through the day. Sam had started helping Dean out with the numbers and he had helped dig up everything they could find on Dick Roman. Dean had also let Frank in on the mission and he had been frustrated every day since then because Frank hadn't called with any information yet. Dean's obsession with finding the Leviathan boss and the meaning of the numbers had steadily increased along with his drinking, and Sam was really starting to feel concerned about his big brother. Sam had also been wondering if they should give people, who knew Bobby, a call to tell them about his death, but when Sam had suggested it to Dean the older brother hadn't exactly been very thrilled about the idea.

Then a girl named Madison had called asking for Bobby. Turned out she was daughter of a hunter Bobby had known and even before Sam had known that her father had been missing, Sam had sensed that Madison had been in trouble. Since Dean hadn't wanted to leave the case with Dick Roman, Sam had left to go find the girl on his own while Dean had set out to find Frank. Long story short, Sam had found the missing hunter but not before he'd been captured and fed on by two supernatural creatures called Vetalas. Luckily, Dean had shown up with Madison and they'd all survived. Well, everyone except the Vetalas at least.

"It's nice to walk away from someone and feel like they could be okay." Dean had said in the car after they'd left. "How about you? How you doing? You alright?"

"No. I'm definitely not." Sam had admitted, glad his brother cared enough to ask. "But you know.. I mean, um.. I think maybe I just want to work."

Work always seemed to take his mind off things. At least for a while. Sam had asked Dean how he had felt as well and, like always, Dean had claimed to be fine and had agreed on the work part.

Sam had tried to read Dean's face after that. Dean might have been a great liar but Sam could see right through his big brother's tough façade. Dean was not fine. The venom and blood loss from the run-in with the Vetalas had begun to show though so Sam turned on the music, made himself as comfortable as possible in the passenger seat of the car and let sleep overpower him.

So maybe neither one of the brothers was okay but they were still alive and that was the important thing.

_Dean_

Damn numbers! Damn Dick Roman! Damn Frank! Damn everything! Dean was frustrated with the lack of progress they had made so far and he'd been even more frustrated when Sam had decided to go help out some kid he couldn't know for sure was in trouble or not. So alright, on a normal day Dean would probably have been off to help out that kid in a heartbeat, but this wasn't a normal day. Bobby had just died and he'd spent the very last moments of his life passing these numbers on and Dean would be damned if he would ignore that fact.

So Sam had taken off and Dean had set out to find that crazy dude Frank. Fortunately, Frank had done his homework and had figured out that the numbers were in fact coordinates. Apparently Dick frigging Roman was planning to build something on a field somewhere. Dean had been a little less frustrated now that the numbers weren't constantly haunting him and he'd finally managed to get a little bit of sleep (36 hours to be correct!) before a call from that kid had freaked him out. Sam had been missing and Dean had felt like someone had just kicked him in the jewels. He couldn't lose Sam, he just couldn't. His little brother had luckily survived - though Dean knew that it had been a close call.

Said little brother was now drifting off to sleep on the car seat next to him. Dean glanced at Sam before turning his attention back to the road in front of him. As long as Sam was okay Dean was okay, and he could as well start practicing that fake smile Frank had told him to put on his face.

"Make yourself smile because you're alive and that's your job. Then do it again the next week." Frank had said.

"So fake it?" Dean had asked.

"I call it being professional." Frank had answered. "Do it right, with a smile, or don't do it."

There was no way Dean would quit this life, it wasn't even an option. 'Cause he was not gonna walk out on his brother.

**_ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _**

**THE END.**

**Thoughts? **

**-Elisa.**


End file.
